i am on the carpet and you are on the bed, and the wine is leaking from the bottle and both our mouths are drunken and you believe in love and only love but the wine it makes you thirsty and you believe in love and only love but the evenings leave you winded and if our doubts had their way we might both be elsewhere, but doors and locks and stair flights conspire to do our thinking and when we look away we miss the wine bottle winking to the deadbolt and the deadbolt nodding to the pillows and the pillows blowing out the candles.